The Consulting Criminal's Daughter
by Timelord Songbird
Summary: Jim Moriarty has a job that needs to be done, and the only people he trusts to get it done is his two daughters. He and his partner, Sebastian Moran, send the girls to live in a flat below their enemy. Takes place about sixteen years after The Reichenbach Fall. I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters in this story excepting Shea. Ebony was created by a dear friend of mine.
1. Chapter 1

Voices rang out through the house, vibrations felt in the floors, it wasn't terrible uncommon of course in this certain house. You could say it wasn't a fully functional family though, if you could call it that. There were two parents, and two daughters, also expected, but this was a house of snakes. Currently, the one of the fathers, who you would better know as Jim Moriarty (yes, you read that right) was yelling at the younger of the two siblings. A girl named Shea. She was often getting yelled at, as she was quite stubborn and a bit of of a rebel. (I say a bit, but thats a bit of an understatement.) Her older sister, Ebony was much different. Very quiet and rarely got in fights, in fact she rarely stepped out of her room. You could say she was an introvert.

Anyway, setting the stage, Shea had chocolate brown hair and electric blue eyes that currently were aimed rather angrily at her Jim. He returned the look coldly, with the girls' other parent Sebastian Moran ready to spring into action if the argument turned into a brawl. Ebony looked more like her parents in that she had much darker hair and her eyes were incredibly dark, like her biological father's. She had very light skin, a result from staying inside so much, and from her mother, whoever she was.

From her room, Ebony could hear the loud ruckus downstairs and sighed. In their rather large living room, stood both parents and Shea. It was another typical argument, 'how they were never home', and 'how she deserved more, and that she's being too stubborn' and such. Trivial topics, but yet seem to be able to bring a house was a good thing they lived far enough from any civilization. It was a rich neighborhood, one with at least a mile between each house, one of those filled with trees and large houses, perfect for a consulting criminal and his family.

After much tribulation, a slamming was heard, and Shea sprinted out of the house and onto the street. Ebony looked out her window and could see Shea standing outside, not far away, under a street lamp. Sighing slightly, she closed her computer and stood up. She walked down the stairs, ignoring the bickering between the parents, and out onto the street. She had pulled on a sort of asymmetrical trench coat, (count on Ebony to always look somewhat suitable) but she quickly grabbed one of Shea's jackets on her way out. Walking over to where Shea stood, Ebony put the jacket over her shoulders and lead her silently over to a bench. They both sat down, Ebony with a hand around Shea's shoulders, Shea laying her head on Ebony's. They both where silent for a moment before Shea began to talk, as Ebony listened on (she was rather good at that). The two sisters were so different at times, that you wondered if they were even related but at times like these, you really knew. After what seemed to be days, but truly was only an hour, everything quieted down and the two returned to the house. The adults had disappeared from the front room and the house lights were turned down. They both took off jackets and shoes, and headed up the staircase together, finally separating to each their own room.


	2. Chapter 2:Shea

Why my father asked me to meet him in the front room, I had no clue. I hoped that it had nothing to do with our most recent argument. The thing is though, I had no clue what we were arguing about this time, but all I know is that he started it. Or was that Mum? I don't know.

I walked into the front room, wearing my favorite (Father's least favorite) outfit. Father was (as usual) wearing a Westwood suit and tie. I almost laughed aloud at the level of seriousness his face portrayed but I caught myself just in time.

"I know that we haven't been on very great terms lately, but I may have found a way for you to… Redeem yourself," said my infamous father.

_Redeem myself?_ I thought. "What is it that you would require me to do… Father?" I asked coldly.

"I need you and your sister to leave to London. I have a job for you to do that requires you to meet a certain consulting detective."

"You mean Sherlock Holmes? The man mummy had a fancy for?"

"Don't. Say that name in this house."

In response, I walked over to the door and opened it. I walked outside onto the porch and shouted, "Sherlock Holmes," then calmly walked back in and shut the door as if nothing had happened. "What do you want me to do exactly?"

"This is a packet for him, a binder. _Don't _read it. Here is a letter that will explain everything, and also has tickets for the train and other necessary papers. Please, I want to work with you. " He had a strange look on his face, I attributed it to hope or something like that, a strange look indeed for a man like him.

"Fine," I said as I walked away.

"Read it in your room and tell your sister, please." He huffed slightly. I walked away without looking back, thinking about the strangeness that had taken place. I climbed up the staircase to my room and tossed the binder and letter on the bed. I walked across the hall to Ebony's room to give her the news then walked backed to my room and shut the door. Throwing myself onto the bed, I buried my face into the pillows letting out a frustrated scream. About half an hour later, I sat up and stared at the letter, looking at it like it was going to come alive and start dancing around the room. I picked it up between my thumb and forefinger, as if it was a spider or something. Immediately I busted up laughing. _I'm acting like such a CHILD! What is wrong with me?_ I opened it up and started reading its contents.

_Shea,_

_You need to take the binder and give it to Mr. Holmes. I have rented the basement room for you momentarily. Take the rent papers to Mrs. Hudson when you enter and she will take care of it. Your last names have been switched to Wright, do NOT, whatever you do, let him know who you really are. Your job is to pretend that you are a client with information on how to take over my network. Do not fail me, I have confidence in you. In extreme emergencies, you may contact me, but only in EXTREME cases. The rest of the papers in this envelope are tickets for buses, and money to pay for your stay there._

_-Father_

I almost threw the note away into the trash, but decided against it. For once, my father was entrusting me to something, he believed in me, I knew it was probably not true, but I believed it anyway.I pulled out a large bag and set about packing, making sure to include all of my sources of entertainment.


	3. Chapter 3: Ebony

**Chapter Three: Ebony**

When Shea first came into my room, I was confused, we are good friends and all, but this was unusual, even from the start. It was the late morning, a strange time, and she looked... determined? but yet... annoyed. Probably something to do with our father. And indeed it was. All she said was that we were leaving, and to pack up. I thought it strange, but complied. A small duffle bag was pulled out and quickly filled with necessary items. about 45 minutes later, Shea came back in.

"I'm sorry Eb... Dad asked, I really have no idea what he wants, but we're to visit a man in London, Sherlock Holmes, and give him this." She held up a binder.

"I was told not to look in it."

"And you actually complied?" I asked incredulously, she was notorious for getting into peoples business.

"I want to prove to him, finally, that I can do things! I can help! He always liked you more..." Shea looked down

.

"I- You know that's not true..." I said quickly. She looked up

"Do I? Anyway, he gave me this letter as well." She handed me an envelope, which i quickly looked through.

"Mysterious... " I said simply, thinking to myself. then looking up at her. "I'm ready and packed, are you?" I gestured to the gray duffle bag. She then giggled nervously.

"Could you...? I...uh..." I raised my eyebrows. She looked down. "I can't pack..." leading me to her room I saw what was true. It looked as if a tornado had hit. The bag had clothing falling out of it, none of it folded. I stood in shock for several minutes.

"Eb. Eb? Ebony?" Shea waved her hand in my face. "Oh come on, it's not _that_ bad! I looked at her and pushed up my sleeves.

"Come along, Shea." and dug into the pile.

The next morning, the both of us got up groggily, having been packing all night long. Even I, usually a morning person, up quickly, was not so...alert. After remembering though, I quickly got up and ready. I knocked on Shea's door to wake her, who responded with a groan. After a couple a minutes, she emerged, sleepy eyed, but dressed and ready. We both walked down the stairs, dragging our cases behind us. At the foot of the stairs stood our father, looking eerily eager. He clasped his hand together and let us pass, following closely behind.

"Now girls, the plan is for you to stay for about two months, of course that could change, but just for your knowledge." He walked down to the garage, and gave me the car keys. "Here Ebony. drive down to the station, there, one of my agents will be waiting to take the car home." He stopped. The three of us waited in silence.

"Um... okay," I said, trying to break the tension, but not really succeeding, Shea and I got into the car, (a small, inconspicuous one.) and pulled out of the driveway.

The trip down was very quiet, not that Shea did not try to make conversation, but it sort of just... flew away. We did not really know what we were doing. As Father had said, we met a man at the train station. He did not say anything, just helped us with our bags, and then solemnly drove away. It was a bit of a weird feeling, being alone on one of father's cases, he never really let us help. It was the first time, and it felt very surreal. We boarded the train and went into a separate carriage. Before the train started, a man came around gathering tickets, we handed him ours silently and off he went, soon the train started, and we were whisked along.

"Do you know where we are staying?" Shea said, trying an attempt at conversation. She had given me the envelope, and knowing her tendency to lose things, it was a good idea. I pulled out one of the papers and looked over it quickly.

"It look's like we are staying in the flat below Sherlock. 221 C." I looked farther down the paper were a brief description lay. "After the original owner, a Mrs. Hudson died,the famous Sherlock Holmes bought the flats, saying he could not bear anyone else owning them. He has been renting out the basement flat though, 221 C to others while him and his wife Molly live in the upper flats, his original, 221 B and 221 A. You can contact him at 020-555-3749 to rent the basement flat." I read. _sad..._ I thought. My father always portrayed Sherlock as cold. My mother on the other hand, thought he was warmer. Now I could see where both came from. We were silent for a few minutes, silently struck by the sad tale.

"So we are literally living in Sherlock's house?" Shea asked. I nodded, smiling at her.

"Sherlock and Molly, yes."I replied to her. She smiled excitedly and looked out the window of the train, watching the trees wizz past. She looked at me again.

"What about furniture?" she asked.

"Already taken care of." I said, whipping out a paper.

"Fantastic." she said dazed. I frowned. She seemed overly excited for this. When I had gotten notice, I was worried. I will not lie to say my father is a good man. He is horrible. a full fledged criminal, genius. but he was my father and unfortunately, there was not anything Shea or I could do about it. Fortunately, he usually keeps us apart from his business, but now? I was worried what he was thinking up, there must be some other reason to use us. I looked through the window, gazing off into the distance, but not paying attention. Eventually the train slowed to a stop, and we got out on the edge of bustling London. Looking around, slightly stunned, we slowly walked to the edge of the station. then, gathering my wits slightly, I raised my hand, calling a taxi. We ran into one, and they quickly took us into the middle of the city, and dropped us off at the place. We got out and stopped, the taxi drove away. It was not horribly impressive, but something about it shook us... we stood for a couple minutes staring before walking up to the door. I slowly knocked, softly, then harder and louder. A woman came to the door, She was kind looking, and softly pretty. She had light brown hair and brown eyes. I assumed it was Molly. She smiled and let us in.

"You must be the young women who wanted to rent the basement flat. I think you'll find it accommodating, we have fixed it up a bit since Mrs. Hudson passed away. Can I see your papers?" She asked as she pulled a ring of keys off the wall. I pulled out the paper, suddenly guilty, I felt intruding, Shea on the other side, was excited as ever. Molly looked it over quickly and grinned, handing us a smaller ring attached to the larger.

"The flat is down that way." She pointed to a 5 step staircase. "I'll bring Sherlock down later, I'm sure he'll want to meet our new neighbors." I smiled at her and turned, opening our door. The handle turned and we walked in.


	4. Chapter 4: Shea

Ever since Eb read the letter aloud, I had been jittering with excitement nonstop. I absolutely love the work that Sherlock Holmes does, I'm a constant follower of his blog, as well as John Watson's. I taught myself to be able to deduce like he does and store information in a way that I'll never forget.

But that isn't the only reason why I was excited. I was going to be free, away from my parents in the centre of London. Another reason was that I finally had a way to prove myself to my father, make him see that I wasn't a useless lump of flesh that did nothing except take up space and waste valuable resources (he'd actually said that, Father was a cruel man).

When we arrived at the flat, all I could think was keep calm, keep calm, KEEEP CAALM! It worked. Well, on the outside at least. Well...somewhat. Molly didn't notice, but Ebony sure did, but then again, she is my sister.

Anyways, Molly showed us down to our flat and showed us around the place.

"Hope you like the place! If you need anything, just come up and ask." said Molly before she left us. As soon as she left I turned to Ebony and started grinning like a maniac.

I was about to open my mouth to say something about the fact that we were living in Sherlock Holmes actual house, when a knock came to the door. Ebony calmly came and walked over and answered it.

"There's a man asking to see you," said Mrs. Holmes, "he said that he brought some packages for you?"

"Oh, yes!" said Ebony, "we'll be right up!"

We went upstairs and surely, there was a man with about ten boxes waiting for us. We slowly lugged them downstairs (with the delivery man's help, of course) and set them all up in a pile in the front room.

The delivery man turned to walk back up the stairs and out of the flat, when he turned around, as if remembering something. He pulled a somewhat crumpled envelope out of his pocket.

"This is for you ma'am," he said to Ebony in a thick Scottish accent.

"Thank you, sir." said my sister as she took the letter from him.

"Drive safely!" I said to the man as he left.

Ebony closed the door then slowly tore open the letter she had just got. After she read it, she handed it to me. All the letter said was that we'd have to buy the rest of it. Without questioning it much, I went and inspected the boxes more.

Two of them were identical in pretty much the same way, except colour. One was grey, the other yellow. A couple boxes looked just like a regular moving boxes, sealed only with tape. I pulled out one of my knives and cut through the tape sealing them. Inside one of them was assorted towels, soaps, and other necessary items. In others were pieces of wood and paper instructions on how to build a table and chairs. I lugged the boxes to the rooms that they most likely were meant to be and set to work.

After I finished, I walked back into the front room where Ebony was. She had opened one of the two remaining boxes and bits and pieces were arranged strategically around the room. I took the other to what would be serving as my bedroom during the stay and took it apart. It was a bedroom set, with a wardrobe, desk, stool, bookcase, storage cases, and bed. I set up my laptop atop the desk and sat down to check my e-mail. I had one message in my inbox. It was from Moriarty, or at least one of his minions.

Shea,

I have arranged for you to work at the St. Bart's mourgue as Molly's new intern. Ebony has a job as well. I have found it necessary to your cover that you appear to be perfectly normal people with jobs. Try to blend in and gain Sherlock's trust.

Now, I never really talked to you about a background story, except that your last name is Wright, so here it is. You guys are posing as Shea and Ebony Wright, two orphans that are just getting back on their feet. Your 'parents' were John and Amy Wright. Your late mother died of cancer two years back, and you lived with your father who was getting more and more depressed until he committed suicide last fall. You sold the house and land that you lived in and moved to London, seeking a fresh start.

-Jim Moriarty

That was how the email went. I deleted the message, closed the laptop, and walked over to Ebony's room. I knocked on the door and a couple minutes later she answered.

"I'm hungry." I said when she opened the door. "Let's go get something to eat."

"All right," she responded with a sigh. "Let's go to the restaurant down the street."

After dinner we went shopping to go pick up some groceries and such for the flat. I got up groggily the next day, completely confused about where I was. Then Ebony came and knocked at my door, telling me that it was time for work. I suddenly remembered and literally leapt out of bed and over to my wardrobe to get ready. After I was dressed I came bursting out of my room. "Hey, Eb? Do I have to eat breakfast, or should I just…" I said, trailing off. There was a note on the kitchen table.

Had to run to work. You were being so SLOW! Now hurry, or you'll be late!

-Ebony

I quickly finished getting ready (skipping breakfast, I WAS going to go work in a morgue!) and ran out of the flat. I climbed up the stairs, walked outside, and hailed a cab.

When I got to the hospital, I ran inside, down into where the morgue was located. I calmed myself down, then walked in, worried about what I might see. I walked over to Molly's door and knocked.

"Come in!" Molly cheerfully said. I opened the door and walked in. "Oh! How are you? Was Sherlock bothering you?"

"No, I'm your new intern." I replied.

"Oh! How exciting! You can put you things over there and we will get to work shortly, I was just working on some paperwork."

A couple minutes later, we set to work. We had to examine a couple of murders first (one garroting, one stabbing) and one apparent suicide (poisoning) that I proved to actually be a murder, done by a serial killer. We took a break for lunch, then set back to work. The rest of the day was relatively boring, so we spent most of the time talking.

"So how could you tell that it was a murder?" Molly asked me.

"It was really quite obvious, actually." I replied. "There were faint, finger shaped bruises around the mouth, showing that someone forced the poison down the victim's throat. There were those signs on some of the other bodies that were out here, so during the lunch break, I tested them all for certain chemicals and found traces of one deadly one in the mouth, but not enough to kill, only to make them ill. Then I saw wounds on each person's arm, like a flu shot. You said that they had just gotten vaccines recently, right?" Molly nodded. "I tested the blood of each victim and found the vaccine and hydrogen peroxide in the bloodstream. Cause of death: poisoning. By whom: a nurse all the victims went to school with, the victims bullying the murderer so much that she wanted revenge. There is one more person on the list, who should be dead within a day, or two unless we can stop it."

"Who?" asked Molly.

"The next victim is Geof Greyson and the murderer is a Joan Smith."

Molly got up and called Lestrade and it turned out my deductions were correct. I was SO excited, then I realized that the murderer was probably working for my father. I shrugged off the thought, putting it off for later. I went home afterwards and told Ebony all about it.


	5. Chapter 5: Ebony

I got home before Shea, the good thing about working at a café is that I got more regular hours, and a pre-determined schedule, which meant, I knew when I was getting home. I got home at about four, as its rare that people go to a café after lunch or tea-time. I had finished unpacking all the boxes, and set everything up nicely, arranging it strategically. After, I figured that Shea would like a meal when she got home, I began to pull out things and cook. Shea had never learned to cook, both horrible at it and never wanting to learn caused an utter lack of it. I, on the other hand, found a knack for it. Besides, I wanted to surprise her. Shea came home about an hour and a half later. She was grinning as she came in the door. She ran around the hall into the main room, and saw me in the kitchen, she skipped in and hopped on a stool, unable to contain her exuberance. I laughed slightly and took off my oven mitts, straightening my apron. I sat down on a stool opposite her and put my elbows on the table.

"What is it?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"Well..." She said slyly. "I solved a case! I found the murderer and everything! Oh it was brilliant-" she stopped and gave me a look "literally." She then laughed at her self. I smiled. It was good seeing her so happy with herself. It seemed as if she were a natural here, happier here than back home, which made sense of course, but she belonged, I'm not sure I did. I laughed with her, glad.

"Aren't we supposed to keep a low cover?" I said smirking. "You know- keep low, look normal, act natural." She groaned.

"Ugh! BOOOriiiiing!" She sang, tittering. "This is too much fun!" I envied her absolute joy. It seemed as if she'd forgotten completely why we were there.

"Do remember..." I started hesitantly, not wanting to ruin her moment. "We are here for a reason, and not to _solve _crime."

"I know, I know..." She said slowly, but still smiled, "but we can still have fun while we do it..." She laughed slightly. "How's your day been?" She asked.

I thought. It had been good, I guess, I had gone to work at the café next door, which turned out to be a fun little place, but not exactly a café. It was a book lover's dream. A very small library/bookstore fusion, with a small café up front. It smelled like a wonder, coffee, books, chocolate, caramel, so forth. It wasn't very large, or well known, but the people there were kind, would get lost in the books forever, and then emerge for some cocoa or what not. I have to say, I enjoyed it very much. Shea wasn't as much of an introvert as me though, and loved an audience, I'm not entirely sure how much she would enjoy it there, She does love reading books, but not when there are other opportunities. I sighed.

"It was wonderful..." I smiled lightly. The timer rang, snapping my slight stupor. I jumped up and pulled on the oven mits. I pulled open the oven and was greeted with a wonderful plume of warm steam and a mouth watering smell, what can I say, I'm a natural. Shea looked over instantly

"Is that...?" She asked looking very excited.

"Indeed it is" I grinned. "Honey garlic roast chicken and New York salt potatoes." I said grinning. I put a hot pad on the table and put the two dishes down. "Help me set the table." I said, pulling off the mitts and apron. Shea stood, and pulled dishes from the cupboard. I pulled out utensils and napkins, setting them on the table, soon we were ready. The meal went by fast, Shea talked through most of it, telling me more about her day. I was happy. I wanted it to stay like this forever. Soon we were done and going to bed. Finally in my room, I looked around. The box I had chosen had been grey, and larger than other boxes i'd seen before, in fact most of our boxes were, presumably to hold better quality furniture. And indeed it was good quality. When unpacked my room held a bed, desk, stool, wardrobe, three bookcases and a storage compartment. It was all in gray tones, with a couple colored pillows, a bit my style. The bed, which I now sat on, was low to the ground, but sturdy and come with a sort of foldable mattress. I walked over to the desk, where my laptop was, and sat down. I decided to look more into the reason we had been sent here. Sherlock Holmes. I knew that my father and him had been a sort of arch enemies, but not much more, father hardly talked about him. I checked out both his and John's blogs, reading them through. I searched further for newspaper articles and other means of information about him. I figured even though Shea wasn't super intent on this mission, I was going to check it out. I looked through the websites late into the night, reading through all the writings of his crime solving, I have to say, I was impressed. I was jealous, he was a good man, even if he sometimes pretended he wasn't while I was the opposite. I tried, but my father's reputation left me desolate. This new opportunity was golden. A place to be me, known for me, not my father. To be my own person.

I eventually fell to sleep moments later, flopping onto the bed.

_It was strange. Soft, foggy. I felt like I was floating through smoke. It was comfortable, but quickly became stale. I looked around, hoping for something recognizable. With that, the air cleared and I was set down. I looked down. I was standing on an old cobblestone road. I then looked at myself, surprised, but yet, somewhat expecting. I was wearing a victorian dress, Early style. It had a flowing skirt and a close-fitting bodice. I had a square neck, but low, with long sleeves. It was a dark violet indigo color, with dark silvery accents. It had lace trim that made its way around the neck, ends of the sleeves and bottom of the skirt. My dark hair was pinned back from my face, and up away from my neck. I lifted my hands, bewildered at the strange clothing, they were dressed in white gloves. Black string hung off the back of the hands, seemingly cut off, several centimetres down. I put my arms down, and behind me, brushing against a small pouch hanging on my skirt, pulling it forward, I saw the white silver handles of clean sewing scissors coming out of the top of the small drawstring bag. _

_Looking up, I saw old styled lamps lined the edges of the street, reflecting light into the puddles covering the street. I w__alked up onto the sidewalk, lifting my dress. The way was lined with old looming buildings, dark and dank, the air was humid, but cold. I wrapped my arms around me. I walked forward, not entirely knowing what to do. I looked around in awe at the dark, but sure, beauty of the landscape. It came across as if like an old mystery/detective movie. I loved the eerie winds and the slow dripping of water, The fog in the distance, I felt exhilarated. A few people roamed the street, couples walking along, a few horse drawn carriages leisurely rolling past. A figure came racing down the street, it was a young woman, I felt like I recognized her, but couldn't tell from the distance. She ran up closer to me, before stopping right in front of me. It was Shea! She was also dressed in victorian clothing, but hers being black and a gray blue. She was breathing heavily and grinned at me, leaning against a building. It seemed out of place in the landscape. She stood up and pulled me along, racing behind her. She pulled me into an alleyway. That was when I first noticed she had similar strings trailing off her own gloves, but this time rising up into the sky, fading into the fog. My eyes followed the string up, expecting to see the source, but it was covered by the clouds, blocking me from view. I looked down to Shea, she opened her mouth, beginning to talk._

"_He wants to speak to you, he feels as if you doubt him, you know what he can do..." She started. Instantly I knew of who she spoke of. "Moriarty wishes to see you, to redevote you." She said softly, but assuredly. I looked down at the cut strings off my gloves, wondering. _

"_Of course." I replied, submissive. I regretted saying it, but I of all people knew what he was capable of. _

"_We meet in the attic of the old estate on the brink of the city. Use the magpie cypher at the door." I nodded slightly, knowing of the things she spoke of. Shea ran off as quickly as she came, vanishing back into the fog. I stared after her, Following slowly out into the street. I waved my hand, calling a carriage down. _

"_Thank you..." I mumbled, stepping into the carriage. I told him the street and we were on our way. _

_I arrived and stepped out of the carriage, my skirt pulling behind me. I looked down at my hands. I held a small pin, a magpie, in my hand. I hadn't worn it for months. I walked to the front of the building. The door opened and an old man stood in it. I showed him the pin. _

"_A strange pin." He said, seriously. _

"_Thank you, I received it from a fox thief." I replied gravely. He motioned me in and up a ladder, into the attic. I climbed up into it, making my way into the room. It was taller than I had remembered, with a full sized dinner table in the center. It was dark wooded and long, hard chairs against the sides. The room was cold, and the head chair faced away from me. _

"_Hello my dearest Ebony. How was your travel?" The man asked. He turned around slowly, smiling. I looked down slightly, not wanting to make eye contact._

"_It was... nice." I said slowly. He nodded._

"_I am so glad Shea could have invited you, Its been so long since you've visited." he looked off to the side, seemingly gesturing to someone. Shea stepped out from behind the curtains, smiling at him, She sat down in the chair next to him, sitting close. "Shea of course, comes at my every word. I meant to ask you dear, Why do you doubt?" His voice hardened instantly, sharper than ice._

"_I... I didn't doubt." I lied. "I just... wondered, thought." _

"_Oh you know thats not wise, to think. That's why you have me!" He spread his arms wide. I frowned to myself._

"_Yes..." I said softly. "I suppose." He looked at me harshly._

"_You suppose?" He asked. _

"_Yes, I-" He reached down onto the table and picked up a fruit, polishing it with his glove. He laughed and rolled it down the table to me. I picked it up. An apple. A positively ruby red apple. I looked to the fox thief as he laughed._

"_You owe ME!"_

_I shivered as I walked back out of the house. I was commanded to stay, but I couldn't bear being in there for any longer. The man scared me and I was worried for Shea, she didn't know what she was getting herself into. I pulled the apple out of my bag. It was almost too perfect, too red. Often like what the man seemed to be. Too much. A king. Suddenly angry, I threw the apple, hurling it as far as I could, it tumbled against the muddy road. I sank down. I couldn't do this. I didn't want to be connected to this man, related, but I couldn't help it. I was stuck. I couldn't get away. He was my father, what do you do if your parent, your guardian is knowledgeably wrong? I sank to the ground, not caring if my skirt got dirty, sobbing lightly. _

_I couldn't stay. I stood and walked away from that house. I walked along the cobblestone, buildings and houses slowly becoming more common. I was lead up the path, staring up into the clouds. I ran into someone. _

"_Oh! Im so sorry!" I picked up my skirts, before straightening. The man in front of me was tall, I looked up to reach his face, and it was the face of the very man, Sherlock Holmes! He had bended over to pick something up. An apple! The very same. The apple, the phrase that had linked these two men. Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty. He wore a dark gray suit, different from the harsh black that my father wore. I looked up at him, wondering if he could possibly be as bad as Moriarty stated him as. I felt guilty, rooting for my fathers enemy, doubting, racing from my own. Sherlock looked to me._

"_You cut yourself off." He said, lifting one of the strings attached to my glove. I noticed that he himself wasn't wearing gloves, In fact he was the only person I had seen without them. I looked up at him in slight confusion. "You cut yourself from him, The puppet cut herself loose." He chuckled lightly and lifted the leather bag with the scissors. "a clean cut." I inhaled sharply._

"_A puppet? Did you say a puppet?!" I asked suddenly. A puppet. Without another word to the man, I raced off, images flashing through my mind. The strings trailing off my gloves, Shea's trailing into the sky. 'a puppet-cut off from him.' Him could only mean... I forced myself faster and farther till I reached the house. I pushed past the old man, jumping up the ladder into the room. What I saw shocked me, but I could see clearly. Shea lay on the floor. When she saw me she moaned lightly. She tried to reach a hand out to me, but it was pulled behind her._

"_No, don't come here!" She screamed suddenly. "run, Run!" She pulled on her hands and I saw that they were pulled back by the strings. She screamed to herself. My sister. I couldn't let her... I fell forward suddenly at her side. _

"_Calm, calm!" I said, breathing hard, I pulled my bag forward, working the knot undone. Memories flashed through my mind, images of doing the same thing, my fingers working, remembering doing the same things, months before., slowly, working at the strings when I had time, not all at once like this. It was dangerous, breaking off, once cut, you don't know anymore. I didn't know what Shea would feel, all of a sudden, broken off. I pulled out the white silver scissors, opening them with a shiver. I reached over to a string, but before I could work at it, it was yanked out of my hands. Shea yelled. the strings pulled her back quickly, she tugged to no avail. I clambered forward, to catch up. She screamed, zooming forward. I looked up horrified. She was racing towards the wall, seemingly to run into it, before my eyes, the wall shimmered, vanishing. She flew off the edge. _

_I yelled. Anger, fright, disbelief. I heard a shriek. I quickly crawled to the edge of the gap, looking over the edge, and then up. I could hear a voice in my mind,_

"_You really think I would let her fall?" a booming voice. "such a valuable piece, in my game. You should know of all, I don't get rid of you until I don't need you any longer.. besides, letting her fall, would be... Cliche. You know who I am." I looked up in horror, knowing that voice exactly. I saw his face. My father. The thief king, fox, magpie, he had many names. Moriarty. _

"_And I still need you." He said. He cracked, a harsh laughter, like lightning, rang through the air. I saw Shea jerk forward, hanging by her arms. "It's a pity, I'll have to tie you up tighter this time, no chance of you getting away this time."_

_Thick ropes came through the air, on either side of Shea, racing through the sky. They wrapped around me tight, almost so I couldn't breathe, like snakes, writhing angry snakes, but that was what he was. A snake. The ropes pulled me forward, I stepping on my tiptoes to remain on the edge of the building. I looked up at his face one last time. _

"_You are MINE. You will NOT escape again, and if you do so..." He giggled maniacally and yanked his hands backward. I could feel my feet slowly tip off the edge, before I fell. I could see clouds rushing away, the face of Moriarty burned into my eyes, his laugh, still piercing my ears. I shrieked as the air whipped all around me, cutting into my flesh. I screamed. _

I was still screaming. I could not stop. I was petrified. I could not move. _

**Please review! I hope that you are enjoying this. **


	6. Chapter 6:Shea

I woke up with a start. Someone was screaming. It was Ebony. I bolted out of bed and threw on a robe. I raced across the room, throwing open my door as I hurried to get to her. I forced open her door and dashed next to her on the bed.

"What happened!" I asked her, trying to calm her down.

"I, I… I don't know! There was father, and you and…" She said, working herself up again. A huge slam came echoing throughout the house and we both jumped, startled. We left to go investigate, I dragged Ebony along behind me.

We walked into the living room, to see what the source was. Sherlock and Molly were standing in the room, Molly arguing with Sherlock.

"You don't go bursting into places like that, Sherlock!" she said, scolding him. They had run down at the noise.

"No, no… It's fine. I just had a… nightmare. That's all!" Ebony said. At this, Sherlock looked slightly disappointed, He looked sideways, and sighed slightly.

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed. "We thought someone was being murdered!"

"Apologies, ermm… Would you like some tea or something? Or…" I said.

"Yes, please! I mean, if it wouldn't be much trouble…" said Sherlock, looking at Molly

.

I walked into the kitchen, followed by the others. I went about setting up the tea tray and set the kettle to boil. About 15 minutes later, we were all situated around the table sipping the lavender tea. I kept glancing around the table, making sure Ebony was okay, and looking at how Sherlock and Molly acted. I wasn't paying attention much to the conversation going on around the table until someone said my name. I almost spilled the tea, but caught it in time.

"Shea?" said Molly, "are you okay?" Everyone was looking at me.

"Ermm… Yes? Just tired. And I'm thinking." I responded. "At least I didn't have a nightmare !"

"We were just making sure that you were still alive!" Ebony said joking. She seemed much better now.

"Oh… Sorry?" I said quietly and went back to my tea.

The others resumed their tired chatter and I reached into my pocket of my robe and pulled out my mobile. The glowing display proudly announced that the time was 3:36 a.m. With a sigh, I shoved the phone back into it's place and slouched in my seat. I placed my now empty cup onto the table, and dropped my hands to my sides. Slouching even further, I realised that I'd never unplugged my phone. I looked underneath my chair, and sure enough! The charger plug was underneath it, dragging on the floor. Groaning, I stood up and marched away to plug it in. When I came back into the room, the adults (I consider Ebony an adult, and when I say adults in this instance, I do not include Sherlock) were talking of some plans for dinner.

"We don't have anything going on" I said as I sat down again. "Right, Eb?"

"Of course not! You just moved in and know absolutely nobody here except for myself and Molly." Sherlock interrupted.

"Sherlock!" Molly said. "I'm sorry girls. Maybe we should go… Would you like to come over for dinner sometime? Say...Next monday?" she asked as she stood to leave.

"It's quite alright!" Ebony said, referring to Sherlocks outburst. _She's quite used to it... _I thought to myself, laughing. "We would love to come over. What time?"

"Six." said the violinist as his wife shoved him out the door.

We had spent several days in our new house, playing with the idea of living by ourselves. The day before the dinner eventually came and I didn't remember going to bed, but I woke up drowsily in the morning with my phone going off. I picked it up and read the screen. GET UP it read. I got up and hurriedly got ready. Another day at work. We had to check out a couple suicides, but that was about it! The day passed by quick and painless, with no solved murders on my part. Well, painless for me. Can't say the same for the corpses (one of them died of overdose).

I got home and saw no sign of Ebony in the main room (she gets home before I do, after all, she works next door and I work a ways away). I knocked on her door and was met with a happy "Hello!" I walked across the hall to my room and face planted onto the bed. Then I realised that that wasn't the brightest idea in the world since I might have toxic chemicals on me so I went and cleaned up. I got out of the shower and checked the time. 5:15 p.m. Sighing, I threw myself back into my bed so I could sleep. I was just drifting off when my phone went off. I dazedly picked it up and read the text that had come in.

**Dinner has been changed to 6:30. One of Mycroft 's men will come and get you and your sister at 6:00. He will be driving a short, black limousine. Be ready. Formal dress is required. **

**-SH**

I walked over to Ebony's room and tossed the phone to her. "CAN he trust us? Well… let's go anyway!" I said to her. We had half an hour before we had to go.

We got ready quickly and got all set to leave. We both wore cocktail length dresses, partly because we forgot to pack the long ones, and because we didn't want the skirts to get stuck in the door (I have a bad reputation with that…). We ran outside, and it was raining. I sprinted back in and came out with our coats just as the car pulled up. We clambered inside and I still managed to get my skirt stuck in the door. At least it didn't rip!

About fifteen minutes later we pulled up outside of a beautiful building with a magnificent garden with roses spilling out everywhere. I walked up the brick pathway to the front door, careful on the trip on the uneven surface. Flowers and plants were literally everywhere, like someone planted it, then left it alone to grow however nature chooses.

We walked up the steps onto a magnificent light blue porch with a white, hanging porch swing to the side, facing outward. We looked around for a bit, then walked through the open door. There was a sign just inside, advertising the name of the restaurant.

"Do you have a reservation?" said the hostess.

"Ummm…" I said, and as I did, my phone chimed.

**Ask for the Watsons' table.**

**-SH**

"We're here to see the Watsons." I said.

"Oh! Right this way." Said the hostess, guiding us along as she walked. We walked up a flight of stairs to one of the upper levels. Sounds of people talking and glasses clinking were all around, but it wasn't obnoxiously so. We walked into a private dining room and inside there was a long table covered in a light blue tablecloth with a white one layered on top of it. A chandelier hung over the table, lighting up the room with a soft yellow light. Most of the chairs were full, and I didn't recognise most of the faces.

"Are we in…" I said as I turned to ask the hostess, but she had left. "the right place." I finished.

"Shea! Ebony!" said Molly, as she got up from her place at the table. "I was worried that you wouldn't show! What did Sherlock tell you? Did you make it here okay?"

"Yes, of course we did! Mr. Holmes told us that we were being sent a car, and that the driver would drive us here, and to wear formal dress and to 'ask for the Watsons' table,' and that's it!" Ebony told her.

"Oh! Okay! Umm… Well it's the Watson's anniversary and we've decided to surprise them dinner here and introduce them to you guys! Come, let's sit. They should be arriving soon." Molly said. We sat down, placing our coats on the backs of our chairs. I sat down next to Molly, with Shea on the other side of me. We had just got settled in our seats when in walked Mr. and Mrs. Watson, accompanied by a teenage boy. _Omigosh he is so __cute__!_ is what immediately popped into my head. I jabbed Ebony with my elbow, making sure that I wasn't seeing things. She looked at me and grinned, obviously trying to keep from laughing at my reaction. Ignoring her, I turned away and started nervously trying to fix my hair and smoothing out my dress. It didn't help much, my dress was meant to be ruffled.

"That's Hamish, John and Mary's son. Want me to introduce you?" Molly asked.

"Ermm… was it that obvious?" I asked sheepishly. I looked down, embarrassed.

"It's fine. I'm just teasing you. That's a very beautiful dress, by the way."

"Thank you!" I replied. My dress was navy blue and had a silver crisscross detail around the bust. I smoothed the skirt down nervously.

The empty seats were soon filled the small squad of Watsons, with Hamish sitting right across from me. I kicked Ebony under the table, which made her jump. She responded with jabbing me in the shin with the heel of her shoe. I turned and glared at her.

"Hello, I'm Hamish." said a deep voice.

"I'm Ebony, and this is my sister Shea." Ebony said.

"What's it like, having a sister?" he asked.

"Well, it's nice to know that you have someone you can always talk to, and even though we fight sometimes, we still love each other." I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I was born a twin, my sibling being a sister. She died when we were a couple months old."

"Oh." I responded. The air was filled with an awkward silence...well. As silent as it could get in a room full of chattering adults. Very awkward. Some of the food came in. A couple of people stood and gave speeches and such, but I wasn't really listening. I was mostly thinking about why Mr. and Mrs. Holmes had invited us to the dinner, it seemed a rather personal affair. I felt eyes watching me and I turned to look at the source. It was Sherlock, staring at me. Seconds later I felt my phone buzz.

**Apologies for this awkward gathering, Molly insisted we invite you so you can meet everyone (she's also become rather fond of you girls). Also, she forgot that we had plans when we invited you.**

**-SH**

I looked down at my plate of food and happily started eating, my stomach feeling rather happy as the meal of medium rare steak and au gratin made their trip south. But something about the potatoes tasted off… I took another bite just to see what was going on. My heart started beating rapidly and my mouth felt like it had turned into a river. The sacs of air that took up residence in my chest cavity stopped working and I felt as though I were about to die. I turned to tell Ebony that something was wrong but I ended up falling out of my chair instead.

The last thing that I remember of that night is Ebony calling my name and slapping my face, trying to get me to stay awake and almost throwing up all over her white lace dress before passing out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Ebony**

**AN: sorry it's taken so long. New chapter tho! **

When Shea passed out, all previous plans rushed to the back of my mind. I had been planning on telling Sherlock that we had information about Moriarty tonight, during the dinner, but before I could, she fell, I couldn't think of anything else. Everyone at the table moved, arising into a slow panic. Doctor John Watson, rushed around the table, crouching down next to Shea.

"She's still alive, but barely..." he paused. "She's not breathing!" He looked up at his wife. "Hurry! Call an ambulance!" Mary quickly obliged, looking very concerned. She turned away, dialing the number.

"We need to keep her warm," Sherlock said suddenly, I looked up at him. It seemed his entire countenance had changed. He was soft spoken, he took his large coat off the back of his chair. He laid it over Shea, and I tucked the collar under her chin. Mary returned, gripping her bag. She was a strong woman, I could tell, but it seemed that the years had stripped some of it from her. She lost a child a long time, perhaps this brought back bad memories. Hamish pointed out something I had been too worried to notice.

"Why is she suddenly so sick? Does this happen often? Or..." He looked up at Sherlock. "Is there something else going on?" Sherlock nodded ever so slightly, still looking at Shea.

"She never gets sick." I said slowly. "She is always seemingly impervious to disease...this isn't just sick." John nodded, chiming in.

"This is much too serious for something like that anyway, it must have been inflicted...maybe through the food?" Sherlock whipped back to the meal that was forgotten on the table. The sauce on Shea's plate had unknown herbs in it, Sherlock dipped his fingers down into it and examined it before licking it off. Instantly he spit it out, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Poison." He looked back at Shea for a second, then walked around the table muttering to himself. "Oleander... probably meant for me, too precariously set, and much too easy to recognize to have been carefully thought out. We are looking for someone who didn't care who he hurt in the process, He wasn't very wealthy, oleander isn't expensive or hard to find. but first..." He looked up, I could the sirens and very soon, the blaring lights of the ambulance was just outside the windows of the restaurant. John called Hamish over to help carry Shea without having to drag her. They quickly went down the stairs and out into the parking lot, followed by the rest of us. Molly walked in the back with me.

"Are you okay?" She asked softly. She hadn't said a word since Shea first fell out of her seat.

"I- " The gravity of the situation suddenly came crashing in on me. I felt weak, like I could barely stand. I didn't cry, I never did. I sank. Molly put her arms around my shoulders. I stood up straighter, trying to appear strong.

"That's okay dear, you don't have to be strong all the time, you can let your guard down sometimes." She said. '_If only you knew the half of it...'_ I thought bitterly before stopping myself. Molly was so very kind. She helped everyone around her, especially Sherlock. According to my father's reports, he had changed a lot, much softer now, not different personality, but more willing to show it.

I watched as they loaded my sister onto a stretcher, and pushed her up into the van. It felt as if the world stopped, like time had slowed significantly. Everyone looked to be moving through thick syrup. I couldn't move, couldn't collapse, my body was paralyzed, I couldn't think. My mind was slow. Suddenly, I raced up into the van besides her, my heart racing. Throbbing. Back and forth, slow and fast. My mind couldn't decide which it rather prefered. I grasped her hand tightly as they closed the doors behind me. Molly seemed to be the only thing that wasn't blaring, running back and forth, panicking. She was a solid stone in the river of the world. I couldn't really remember the rest of that night, my mind flashing on and off, memories like a camera shutter, flashes. Not a steady stream like it should. One minute we were inside the ambulance, the next we were racing down the halls, and later, In the white room, doctors and nurses running around, quickening to a blur, working to keep her alive, having to restart her heart once. I should have been yelling, screaming, crying. She was my sister and she was dying. But I wasn't... I stood, stone still, frozen in place, watching as my vision went blurry.

Time rushed past and before I knew it she was breathing slowly, The lights were off in the room, dark, I was the only person in the room. They asked me to leave, to return home. I couldn't. I felt as if I would have betrayed her to do so. She was breathing shallowly but even so... She was alive.

I looked over at her from the window, finally feeling some peace. I sat down into the chair that the nurse had been ever so kind to move in here, and laced my fingers into hers. She looked calm when she slept. They had washed her face when taking her in, and I could see her honestly. I smiled slowly and sighed. She was truly beautiful.

I put my head down slowly, suddenly taken over by exhaustion. It was well past midnight, and I hadn't had a good night last night. I quickly fell to sleep, lying my head next to her.

I woke up the next morning, still lying next to Shea. I looked up at the clock. It read 8:50. _Oh NO! _I thought to myself, I was going to be late for work. I jumped up and almost ran past the bed. Before leaving, I gave my sister a quick hug. Within minutes, I was in a taxi on the way to the work.

I arrived and opened the door, the small bell at the top of the frame chiming. I saw my boss look over, first looking slightly frustrated before seeing me. Instantly concern masked his face, he came over and put an arm on my shoulder. It was funny how close I'd already become to them. He was a large man, with dark skin, and a slight accent.

"Are you okay?" He asked lightly, guiding me behind the bookshelf, to a circular table. I breathed in ready to lie. I couldn't, he was so, easily honest, no malice behind his words. But i couldn't afford think like that.

"I'm fine." I said with a smile. He looked at me, lowering his eyebrows.

"no honey, you're not..." He said, and tilted his head. "you look awful..." He said looking down at my crinkled dress, and probably dark eyes.

"Thanks..." I muttered slowly. He laughed loudly. It was a wonderful laugh, big and very joyous, couldn't help but laugh along. I stopped quickly, not feeling the heart to laugh any longer. I looked up at him slowly.

"Well, my sister..." I explained the story quickly, trying to make it as uneventful as possible. He nodded surprisingly understanding. He smiled crookedly and helped me to stand, he pushed me gently towards the door,

"There's no way you're staying here." he said. " Go home, get yourself cleaned up and visit your sister. You need this." I looked up at him in mild surprise, people weren't generally so kind to me, I suppose that was the joy of this, working undercover, I wasn't me anymore.

I was led to the front door of the shop and push out lightly by one of my more bubbly co-workers. I smiled and laughed lightly to them, all the while thinking. I felt... happy, but fake, here. Like I wasn't my true self, and I wanted to be, so very dearly. To be me, without worry. I sighed. There would be no time for that. I ran back to the flat, rushing into the front room. I sank back against the door before noticing something beneath the window on the other side of the room, paper. I walked over and picked it up, checking for a return address or such. The envelope was blank. I slowly tore open the flap, checking the contents, there were several papers inside, I pulled out the most noticeable, a card. It wasn't colorful and cheerful like you'd think they should be, but it only made so much sense, I opened the card and saw a stamp in the top left-hand corner, a small magpie. It was his insignia, his way of saying who he was without blatantly shouting it to the world. That's probably why the envelope came in through the window. It was already rather risky, writing a letter to one inside the home of Sherlock Holmes. He would suspect something immediately.

The card was short, and unimaginative, I wondered why he'd even sent it. It was for Shea, remarking on her health. I checked the envelope again, setting the card down on the windowsill after shutting the curtains. I pulled out the other paper, a much longer letter, addressed to me.

Ebony,

I received word about Shea late last night, one of my men was there, checking on you. I have mailed the enclosed letter for her, put it by her, make sure she see's it, it will help reenact her willingness.

My men have also informed me that you haven't continued with our plan, in telling Sherlock. I assume that you forgot because of Shea, but you must not let her get in your way. She is only your younger sister, and is not to lead you, I would that you continue in this mission fervently...

I shook my head in slight disgust, he put off Shea as another one of his pawns, but i suppose to him, we are all puppets. I shivered in memory of my nightmare. I skipped down the letter a bit, shifting to a more necessary bit of information

...After expressing your knowledge of my system, tell him the things we have discussed, and how you think to destroy me, he will fall for it immediately, jumping at the opportunity to take me down. make sure to act well and convince him. We will lead him to the trap and take him down, but you need to use Shea, she is necessary to the plan. It will not be hard...

I sighed, there we go again. _Necessary to the plan?! _I thought, what did this have to do with us? It was always for his selfish needs, I wondered sometimes why he couldn't just leave us out of all his work, Shea always wanted to help, but I don't think she quite realized... what was happening.

_Jim Moriarty_

I lowered my hand to my side, staring into nothingness, thinking. I quickly went into the kitchen and took out a match, lighting the letter and leaving it in a small bowl, to burn to ash. Whenever my father sent a handwritten letter, he soaked the page in a certain kind of poison, one that seeps from the page and into the air, eventually choking the victim in his or her sleep. The envelope of the letter has a protective seal as not to prematurely set off, but once the seal is broken, the poison is free to roam. The only way to stop the poison is to burn the letter and dissolve the ashes in water. The heat destroys the reaction and the ash sludge left after the water helps to purify the air, getting rid of any of the toxin left, and leaving the remains harmless, to be disposed of anywhere else. Only those close to him know of the secret, so that anyone not meant to read will quickly be disposed of. The letter had quickly burned down, leaving a feathery pile. I put the bowl under the sink, filling it halfway. I left it on the counter, and returned to the windows, uncovering them and cracking them open, dispersing the smell of burning.

I frowned slightly, disliking the feel of being watched, but I was used to it, it was something you lived with if you knew Moriarty. I sighed and shook off the feeling, walking around the corner. I looked around, tiredly taking in my surroundings. Time seemed to be oozing slowly by and I still had a couple hours until lunchtime. I decided to leave at about noon so that I could have time to make myself at least somewhat presentable.

After I picked up the get well card and a book from my room. I walked out the door, pulling on a jacket as I went. Stepping out onto the curb, I raised my hand up to call a cab so that I could go to the hospital. I went through the front office in a daze, walking along the white halls. I stepped into Sheas room, walking over to the side of her bed. I stood the card on the small table besides her and sat down on a chair. She hadn't woken up yet, and lots of tubes were connected to her, hanging plastic bags staggered around the bed. I pulled out the book and started to read, aloud to her.

I had been reading for a while when the door of the room slowly drew forward. I look up to see that Molly had come for a visit. She carried a few white flowers, which she quickly put into a vase and watered, after acknowledging me. She put the vase next to the card and smiled at me, sitting on one of the other chairs in the room.

"How are you doing?" She asked rather bluntly, but kind. "I suppose it's stranger for you in a way, I've grown used to people close to me getting hurt, or being in danger, with a husband like Sherlock..." She laughed to herself. "but to you, I truly can't imagine what you're going through." It was an interesting phrase. Not one you often heard, people didn't often recognize things like that, that everyone is different, not only in appearance, but experience and personality and... how we each perceive things.

"I-" I sat back. "I'm worried. I suppose about this, but about so much more. Should we be here? I almost feel as if.. well she belonged so well, but at the same time we don't live here. In London. It is such a big city, so much for two nearly children to be taking in alone. to be expected to be able to do." I worded myself carefully, disgusted with the lies.

"Don't think this was your fault honey," Molly said, gesturing to Shea. "It was wise to come here, but if you do think it's too much, you can always leave, stay somewhere else." She looked down, looking at Shea. "But you two girls... even after this short time, have become... close to me- to us. almost like..." She squinted slightly. "Almost like you were my own..." She looked up at me, her brows wrinkled, then back down at Shea.

"Really?" I asked as if a child, but she was honest. It was wonderful, I feel like flying for a second, completely ignoring anything else she said. I realized I had never truly been treated like that. She didn't reply, but was rather looking down at Shea, a wrinkle in her forehead.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked slowly, not know what she could be look for.

"I-uh..." She paused. "She almost looks like -without her make-up and such- like... like Sherlock." She laughed softly, shaking it off. I scooted over and looked at Shea, having never noticed it before. "She looks more like him than like you!" Molly laughed to herself, probably trying to mend the somewhat awkward silence that had ensued. It didn't help much. The problem was, she was right. I looked down at Shea, and for the first time in my life I saw why our father had hated her, and why she was always mistaken for 'just a friend' instead of a sister. She didn't look like me, she looked like Sherlock.

"No, but you're right..." I said softly, looking up at Molly. She stopped smiling and her face morphed into one of concern. "She doesn't look a thing like me... or our parents for that matter." Molly looked away for a minute, thinking.

"Do you have any photographs of them? your parents?" She then said suddenly. I had to think quickly.

"Um, no... My father, before he c- died. He burnt all our pictures, but I can remember them..." I said, looking down.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to bring up the topic." Molly said apologizing. I shook my head.

"No, it's okay. anyway..."

"Right." She stood up and walked around Shea, taking in the perspectives. "I suppose It might be just a coincidence but..." I looked at her questioningly. She sighed in resignation. "A long time ago I helped Sherlock with something, evading a man. Moriarty." I shuddered inwardly at the sound of his name being said by someone so pure. "It was- complicated, things had to be done, we had to trick him, and others. In the end Sherlock had to die, and I helped him to do it." I nodded, knowing the story well. "After the fall we had to find a place for him for time enough to take down the rest of Moriarty's operation. I had a family summer home on the coast, hardly used, so we went together. I uh..." She blushed severely. "I got pregnant... but Sherlock had to leave. I went back to London, but before I got there, the child had died, a miscarriage. Or so I thought... Whenever I try to remember the situation, it's just fuzzy-blurry. It is very strange, I never remembered feeling sad about it." I thought slowly.

"and you think...?" I started.

"Maybe..." She said. "When you were young, do you remember any evidence of her being adopted?" She asked. I thought back to when I was very young. I only remembered faint memories, but it added up, father's hate, moran's disinterest. Shea's whole personality. I looked down to her panicked, what would we do if it was true, and what did our father do this for?

"How do we find out?"


End file.
